


blue ink

by mothicalcreatures (laelreenia)



Series: Reunion [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laelreenia/pseuds/mothicalcreatures
Summary: Elrond and Maglor are reunited after two ages apart.





	blue ink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mangacrack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangacrack/gifts).



> From the prompt "Fingertips smudged with blue ink," though that's, uh, only loosely what happens.  
> Also gifted to mangacrack, who's devastation at not getting the Elrond Maglor reunion in "salt taste" helped spur me to write this.

Lord Elrond cursed under his breath as he inadvertently upended and entire inkwell of blue ink all over his desk, ruining the letter he’d been penning to Arwen. He sighed and got up to find something he might use to mop it up, this was probably a sign he should retire for the evening and write the letter tomorrow.

He had just returned to his quarters and begun cleaning up the mess when a messenger knocked on his door.

“Come in,” Elrond called, not looking up from the mess on his desk.

“My lord, your sons have returned with a guest and request an immediate audience with you.”

Elrond sighed. “Tell my sons to make their guest comfortable and I shall join them presently.”

He could hear the messenger shuffle a bit behind him. “They were quite insistent you come immediately.”

“Send them to me then, I must finish cleaning up this mess before the stain sets into the wood.” Elladan and Elrohir not announcing their guest suggested no urgency.

“I could have someone…” the messenger began, but Elrond cut him off with a shake of his head.

“That is not necessary,” he said. “I am near done.”

The elf nodded, and then left to deliver Elrond’s message.

Elrond had just finished disposing of the rags he’d used to clean up the ink, though his hands remained stained blue, and would be for a time yet, when the door of his chambers opened and Elladan and Elrohir entered, followed by a third figure in a hooded cloak.

“Forgive us for intruding so late,” Elladan said. “But this shouldn’t wait for the morrow.”

Elrond was about to ask for further clarification when he robed figure stepped forward and pulled back their hood and Elrond found himself lost for words staring at the face of an elf he thought he would surely never see again.

“Atar,” he breathed.

Maglor winced at the word. “You should not call me that.”

Elrond could feel tears welling up in his eyes. “You may not be my father by blood, but you raised me none-the-less.”

He stepped forward to embrace Maglor, not noticing the nod his sons shared or them slipping from the room.

Maglor tensed at the embrace for just a moment before he crumpled, returning it desperately his head falling to Elrond’s shoulder. “I missed you yonya.”

“I missed you too.” Elrond’s heart ached to hear Maglor call him that. Elrond had given up on the hope of seeing Maglor again, but now he was here, found by his own grandsons no less.

“Come and sit,” Elrond said once he’d finally pulled away from the embrace, leading Maglor to his bed where they could both sit comfortably.

Maglor hesitated a moment, but then followed. “I fear intruding on your hospitality,” he admitted. “I would not wish to cause discord among your people by staying.”

Elrond shook his head. “Stay as long as you wish, I will ensure you are not disturbed. You have spend long ages in grief repenting your sins. Do not deny yourself small comforts now.”

Maglor was quiet for several long moments, clearly conflicted, before his shoulders slumped in what might have been relaxation or might have been defeat. “Your sons clearly get their stubbornness from you.”

Elrond laughed softly. “And I would say in turn that I acquired no small amount of my stubbornness from you and Maedhros.”

A soft smile crept across Maglor’s face though his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Elrond reached to take Maglor’s hand, but paused upon feeling the rigid, bumpy scar tissue on Maglor’s hand. He turned Maglor’s hand over to see what it was he’d felt and his breath caught in his throat. He very nearly surged to his feet for a medicine kit, but then Maglor pulled his away.

“Do not concern yourself,” Maglor said. “Please. The injury is very old, there is nothing to be done.”

“I would still try,” Elrond said, reaching once more for Maglor’s hand. “If nothing else, with some work and care the scar tissue could be made softer, it would make your hands less stiff and cause you less pain.”

Maglor said nothing, but let Elrond slowly begin to massage the scarred skin of his hand. It was a pleasant relief from the constant ache.

Elrond did not say anything for a long moment. He did not need to ask what had caused the awful scars on his foster-father’s hands. Surely only a silmaril could have done such damage as to make the wounds seem new healed after two ages.

“How did you meet my sons?” Elrond asked. “From all the rumors I’ve heard of you through the ages, you kept to yourself by the sea.”

“The boat I used to cross theGwathló was broken in a storm. I’d travelled inland to Tharbad thinking to cross there. I had not realized so much time had passed. Yonya…” Maglor paused, taking back the hand Elrond had been massaging to grab one of Elrond’s own hands. “What on earth is on your hands?”

Elrond laughed as the expression on Maglor’s faced turned to one Elrond had seen countless times as child when he and Elros would get reprimanded lightly for doing something mischievous. “I spilled a bottle of ink.”

“And you used your hands to mop it up?” Maglor’s mouth quirked up into a smile again.

“I did use rags, but not enough to keep my hands from getting covered in it, it would seem.”

Maglor shook his head, smiling softly with an expression that seemed almost confused that he could still smile about anything. “You’ve grown so much, but in some ways you seem to have hardly changed at all.”

 


End file.
